


Under the Water

by LittlexNightingale



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Romance, Blood and Violence, Death, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-29 23:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlexNightingale/pseuds/LittlexNightingale
Summary: Everyone is a sinner; Coralee Hewett is no exception. She finds out the hard way just how well John Seed deals with sinners who refuse to say yes.





	1. Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not profit from this story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s). Coralee Hewett belongs to me.
> 
> Please pay attention to the warning tags. This work has adult themes, and mentions various forms of abuse - substance and physical.

Cora Hewett stood in front of the grimy, wooden table cleaning up broken glass from a beer mug that was otherwise slammed against the corner during a bar fight. She huffed in annoyance at the strong odor of alcohol on the rag in her hand and scrubbed up the mess. It was after hours at the Spread Eagle bar, but after dealing with the cops, she realized that her amount of work had increased and the night was far from over.

Cora dropped her rag on the table and smoothed out her apron, deciding not to put off her sweep of the property any longer. Sometimes the town drunk will sneak upstairs and sleep off his drunken state and she would rather not deal with him stealing from the liquor stash again – his vomit was on everything. Grabbing up her rag once again, she moved up the expanse of the narrow set of stairs, and did a quick search; thank the heavens no one was up there.

“Lookin’ for me?” Grace Buckley called to her from the top stair.

Cora stepped back into the hallway and looked at her friend.

Grace’s lips pulled back into a smile as she pointed optimistically at her chest. “Look at what Mary May and I found.”

Cora narrowed her bright eyes, then rolled them in annoyance just as quickly. She was wearing a tee shirt from last year’s Testicle Festival. “I was hunting for Jed, to answer your question.” She walked into the bathroom and dropped the soiled rag into the laundry basket. “That shirt is in bad taste. Mary should give it back to Kenny before it grows on you. Did you wipe down the main bar?”

“Just finished with it, and besides, I like this shirt.” Grace mumbled something tetchy beneath her breath as she marched down the steps. Before she reached the bottom, she turned and looked over her shoulder. “Mary says before we go, she wants us to help her take freezer inventory. Gonna miss Sunday service, she says.”

Cora smiled at her and untied the side knot on her apron. “That’s a real shame, but I though Pastor Jerome wasn’t having church tonight.” _On account on the flock being so small,_ she thought to herself, balling the foul piece of fabric in her hands. Another stop to the laundry bin, and Cora was able to join Grace on the bottom floor. She missed the female’s reply, but she imagined it was something similar to her own.

Grace lead her around the horseshoe and into the back. Casey had gone home early, but the freezer door was unlocked and wide open. There was no one inside; no Mary. Grace turned and looked at Cora over her shoulder again; wisps of blonde hair fell down her back. She could see the doubt on her friend’s face. “Mary is on the phone. She wants us to go ahead and start without her.”

Cora nodded her head in understanding, despite the irritation growing in her gut. It was late; she wanted to go home. In her opinion, Mary should be helping them clean up. She may have been the owner, but the 3 of them could have easily tackled the many tasks of closing time. She tried to stop feeding off her emotions, swallowing down the strange feeling, but it still remained. Cora closed and opened her sweaty hands and took the inventory list from the hook beside the chef station. Giving it a quick look over, she glanced up at Grace standing idly by the door. “Go on in, so we can get this over with.”

Grace narrowed her bright eyes and placed a hand on her hip. “Why me? It’s cold in there. How come you can’t do it?”

“I’m wearing shorts. That’s not exactly suitable clothing to be digging around in the freezer with,” Cora simply answered. She was correct, however. She had on black denim shorts, and Grace was wearing skinny jeans. If anyone should be forced to tolerate the icy depths of the large deep freezer, it should be Grace. Cora ticked her tongue against the roof of her mouth with displeasure and folded the clipboard beneath her arm. _Be nice and considerate,_ she reminded herself. “I’ll owe you, if you do this for me. Please, Gracie.”

Her friend smiled teasingly at her and raised a finger. “On one condition.” She responded before Cora asked. “Next Testy Festy you join in on the fun. It’s cowboy caviar for us.”

Cora felt the need to vomit. Her mouth filled with saliva, but she swallowed it down and bobbed her head regardless. The brunette began to read over the list as Grace went into the freezer to look – mozzarella sticks and potato skins were among the best bar snacks listed.

“I’m so sick of these goddam parasites.” Mary May Fairgrave’s voice came from the next room. She marched through the doorway and slammed it closed behind her.

Cora stopped reading for a brief second to look at her. “What’s been happening?” She glanced back at the list. “60 pints of blueberries. They should be in the boxes on the bottom shelf, Grace.”

“Gave half of ‘em to Kim yesterday. Should only be 30 pints left,” Mary amended her. She rested against the stove and grasped the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “The same ole shit, Cora. I just got off the phone with the owners of the apple orchard and found out it was sold this evening. Any guess as to who owns it now?”

The question was meant to be rhetorical, but Grace didn’t really get the hint. “To hell with them. The Seeds have been buying up ranches and businesses along the entire county. My daddy says it’s not just here in Holland Valley.” She hugged her arms, shivering from the cold. “I’m afraid they may come after my family’s cattle ranch next.”

Cora shrugged her shoulders and tapped her pen against the clipboard. “Can’t say I am. Grandpa Grady would never sale the horses or his ranch to them; it’s been in our family for generations.” She doesn’t mention that he signed his property over to his wife since the stroke, but Cora was still certain that he wouldn’t let the house go to the Seeds.

Mary smiled gently at her, but even she was concerned. “Grady is a good man, Cora, but John Seed is a damn good lawyer. Not sure where he went to school, but he managed to buy off the orchard with a loophole in the paperwork. I hate to say it, but if he wants something, he’ll damn well get it.” She stepped closer and took the clipboard from the girl’s trembling hands. “Hell, I’m even scared to lose the bar to him. No need to hide it.”

Cora wasn’t scared; not of losing her family home, and not of John Seed. She had seen him before, only once on the television, but he didn’t frighten her. She found herself captivated by his eyes. They were a color blue she’d never seen before and so lax compared to the way he appeared. Cora thought it was funny how so many people were scared of him; she thought he was charming. Her teeth latched onto the inside of her jaw as she smiled. It was desire, not fear.

“I’ve seen that look before.” Grace’s amused voice brought Cora from her thoughts. Her friend was trying not to laugh as she poked Cora on the cheek. “You make it when Mason is around. Is it for him, or for John?”

Mary raised a brow and glanced at Cora in surprise. “Mason Kirby? That’s Charlotte’s boy. You have your claws in him now?”

Cora snorted in annoyance at them and shrugged.  “I’ve been talking to him, nothing more. As for John, he’s attractive. It’s not wrong to look.”

“Make sure to do only that; look.” Mary shook her head, not in the least amused. “My daddy doesn’t trust the Seed family. He thinks they’re planning something terrible.”

Cora rolled her eyes and took the clipboard back from her. “Can we get off my back and finish this?” She glanced at the list, but her vision was clouded in angry tears. In her opinion, buying properties and settling down was not a necessary evil. She didn’t see the danger everyone else saw in them. Maybe something in her mind was broken, but she didn’t care.

Honestly, Cora was a little worried that her grandma may try to sale the ranch. They didn’t have a lot of money, besides what she brought in from working at the bar. However, it wasn’t enough to keep the horses fed and well taken care of. If putting the ranch up for sale would keep the horses from dying, then Cora didn’t care if the Seed family bought it out from under them. Maybe then Cora could pack up and get out of town.

* * *

 

The shift ended a little after 8 and Cora felt exhausted and dirty. She longed for a warm bath, followed by a nap. Several times had the low hum of Grace’s old pickup truck lulled her to sleep, but once it pulled onto the dirt road to the Hewett Ranch, Cora was stirred awake. She pulled herself together, yawned loudly, and recognized the house amongst the forest of large yellow pines.

It was a decently spacious house; 2 stories high and around 4,100 square feet. Cora’s grandpa had it remodeled in early 1987 and a three car garage was attached to the main house. The exterior was rebuilt with fiber cement lap siding, but the rest was kept the same as the original design with wide Board and Batten shutters. Cora loved every single detail. Her heart was sold on one thing, however. The top jewel; a 5 stall horse barn left of the property.

Pulling into the gravel drive, the high beams of the pickup flashed onto the house. The lights were all out, but Cora could make out the silhouette of a person on the covered front porch. They sat on the swing, rocking gently back and forth until the truck parked next to the house and shut off it’s lights. Roy Hewett stood and waved at his older sister.

Cora waved back and turned to her friend. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She heard Grace whisper goodnight as she got out the truck and slammed the rusted door shut. Her ankle boots tapped against the cement terrace as she stepped closer to Roy, swaying her hips in a natural manner. “I told you not to wait up,” she joked.

Roy rolled his eyes and offered her a place to sit. He laughed as she took it, heaving a sigh of relief.

Cora looked him over, noticing that he was dressed in his Sunday best; business casual clothing. She laughed and messed up his hair – Roy was not happy. “That’s too cute. I can’t believe grandma is letting you out of the house on a date.”

“I’m not going on a date,” Roy corrected her. He ran his fingers through tresses of his wavy cropped hair and brought the corner of his lips down into a frown. “Grandma is forcing me to attend a sermon at the church; put on by Joseph Seed himself. She won’t take no for an answer.”

Cora narrowed her sea foam colored eyes, trying not to snap at him. Roy knew their grandma couldn’t force him to go. He didn’t believe in the word of Seed, so Cora couldn’t understand why he was listening to her. There had to be another reason for his agreement to join her.

“Let me make something clear to you.” Cora was beyond mad. She crossed her leg over her knee and took Roy’s hands in her own. “Annamae Hewett does not own you. She can’t tell where to pray or what belief to follow. If you’re only doing this to appease her, then don’t.”

“Grandma is off her rocker; has been since Joseph and the Seeds came to Hope County, but she’s not holdin’ a gun to my head.” Roy tried to assure her with a gentle smile. “I’m not goin’ for her, Cora.”

Cora shut her eyes in annoyance and shook her head. Ringlets of dark brown hair bounced against her cheeks. She didn’t want to know his reason; it would be forced. Her little brother was not dutiful, so whatever excuse he had would not win over Cora. However, Roy was, as she reminded herself, the only reason she was still in Hope County. She forced a smile and bounced her foot like a float on top of the water. “I trust ya, kiddo. Just do me a solid and bale if shit hits the fan.”

“If grandma sees you, shit will hit the fan. She thinks you’re not supposed to be home till later. I’d advise you to bale before she drags you along with us.” Roy laughed and poked at his sister’s pale cheek. “I bet you’d look awful in that floral romper she’s always trying to get you to wear.”

Cora faked a gag; something about that one piece made her nauseous. “In that case, I’d better go and hide.” She stood and stretched her tired back. The house was too risky to attempt, even if the rose covered trellis under her window had been her means of travel to and from the house in the past. The barn was her best choice. Cora yawned loudly and turned to her brother; he was oddly at peace with his decision. “Wait for me. I’m going to get us out of Hope County one day, I promise you.” She leaned forward and ruffled his hair once again.

Roy narrowed his eyes at her and swatted at her hand. “Knock it off, mean ass.” He tried to fix the mess of tangled brown hair, but it was far from proper. “Besides, I want to be a ranger, you know that.”

“I do,” Cora agreed despondently. She gave him a wave and left him to his thoughts, hiking through the front lawn to the edge of the property. With every step, her heart pounded in her chest like an 808 drum. Her little brother wasn’t the same bright eyed and buck toothed boy she remembered; he was growing up fast. The world was seen behind rose colored lenses to him, and it saddened her somehow. He’d know pain if he stayed; Cora wanted to protect him from it. She frowned to herself as Roy whistled piercingly; a wonted hymn on solitary fears. His voice carried on but was lost to Cora as she entered the gloom of the 5 stall barn.

The pungent smell of horse sweat and hay made Cora wrinkle her nose as she walked down the narrow loft. Each stall she passed was open; no horses were inside. They had been all sold for feed, with the exception of 2 – one was put down after breaking its leg during the winter. As Cora made it down to the last set of stalls she was feeling a little better. She gathered a small amount of sugar cubes from the feeder bucket on the hanger and stood in front of the stall.

“Cookie time, Rembrandt.” At the sound of his name the pinto colored mare began taking steps towards her. He swung his head over the grill door and nickered softly. Cora rubbed his neck and gave him the treat. She looked into the stall, noting that his bedding looked clean. His bucket was nearly out of feed, but that couldn’t be helped. The milling company refused to allow her to buy feed after her grandpa went into debt with them; Cora didn’t know what to do. Tears stung at her eyes as she nuzzled him again, scratching behind his ears. Rembrandt arched his foreleg and tiredly dug a rut into the soft ground.  “Sorry boy, no more.” She tossed the remaining cubes into a bucket and wiped the remaining grains onto her black shorts.

The low hum of Annamae’s truck roared to life, startling her. Cora waited until the high beams died out and left the barn. Someone met her at the door; she yelped in fear. Mason Kirby chuckled at her, apologizing for scaring her. He ran his fingers through his textured brown hair; the natural scent of gel circulated around him.

“Laugh it up.” Cora overlapped her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. She meant it as a joke, but she kind of hoped her charming neighbor would think otherwise. When he didn’t react, Cora scowled and raised a brow in uncertainty. “It’s kind of late. What are you doing here anyway?” She looked Mason over, seeing that he was dressed a lot like Roy; church attire. Her lips pulled up into a smile and she laughed. “Did momma finally let you out to play?” 

Mason smiled and shyly brushed his fingers through his hair again. “She doesn’t know. It’s not best she finds out about us.”

 _Because I’m considered a whore,_ Cora further thought. She rolled her eyes, but decided to not comment on it. Mason was innocent by her standards and his momma was a fuming bitch. Cora wanted nothing more than to send him home in bliss for her. “Best not do that. She might send you away.” She moved closer to him, eager to get him riled up.

Mason didn’t move, but his body shivered as she reached to touch his cheek. “Everyone is a sinner, and everyone will go to hell if those sins are not atoned for. I will redeem myself.”

A red flag went up. Cora thought he sounded insane; like a Peggie. Almost like her grandma, when she preached about sin. She considered telling him to go home, but something was odd about his visit. “Shouldn’t you be at the chapel?”

Mason cupped his hand around hers and rubbed his thumb across her skin. “I wanted to see if you’d like to go with me. Father Joseph always welcomes new lambs into his flock.”

Another red flag went up. Mason was religious, yes, and his strong beliefs in Joseph were always clear, but it felt wrong. Cora thought of it as warning; a last resort. Her body hummed in arousal. Something so innocent was right in front of her, enticing her emotions. She wanted to lean forward and take a bite.

“I have a better solution.” Cora laced her fingers around the cotton fabric of his dress shirt and pulled him close. Her warm lips eased onto his. She gave him no time to adjust, rousing her own desire. Mason may have been new to the aspect of sex, but he didn’t show it. His lips moved against hers and his arms slid around her waist. Cora whined into the kiss and lowered a hand to the front of his pants, rubbing his length. He wasn’t hard, but that would soon change.

Mason wouldn’t allow it, however. He grunted and pulled away from her, putting a fair amount of distance between them. His erection was flush against his pants and tight. “Come with me to see the Father. He can save you, Cora. Annamae and I want to help you.” There were easier ways for her to manage, he believed. The wild and annoyed look in her eyes nearly made him reconsider, but he really thought he was helping. “Ruby Hewett was overcome by her sins, but they don’t define you.”

Her mother, Ruby abandoned her. Cora had no ties to her, but the whole town assumed she was born with her sins. They called her a whore and blamed Ruby for her daughter’s addiction, but Cora’s decisions were her own. She chose to fuck whoever she wanted starved of emotional ties; not because of some damn genetic untruth.

Cora had trouble containing her anger. She dug her fingernails into the skin of her palms and glared malevolently at Mason. “Is that what you believe? In that case, go fuck yourself. Get off my family’s property and never show your face to me again.”

“Listen to me, Cora. The Father can help.” Mason tired to move close and touch her, but she jerked back. “You don’t want to be left behind when the great collapse occurs. The Heralds will show you mercy, but their ways of persuasion are not always easy.”

Cora didn’t understand, but she didn’t exactly care either. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just leave before I call Earl.”

Mason backed away and laughed. “There will be no forgiveness without pain for you.” He turned and walked away, heading into the gloom. His words chilled Cora to the core, but she didn’t think too much of his threats. Mason was just as insane as his mother.

Cora left the stables as well and returned to the house, slamming the front door as she entered; the concern of grandpa Grady being asleep mattered nil to her. She moved up the stairs and down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. It was to the left of the stairwell; Roy’s bedroom door was one over and her grandparents shared the room at the end of the hall. The lights were all off, so she assumed her grandpa was asleep. She entered her room and flicked on the ceiling fan.

The angry tears welling in her eyes made seeing hard, but Cora carelessly tore her ankle boots off and tossed them across the room. The triple buckles caught her lamp stand and sent it crashing to the floor, breaking the stained glass. It enraged her further and Cora lost all control. She marched over to her vanity dresser and knocked all her beauty products and knickknacks off the top, tearing her pictures from the mirror. Images of her brother, of Grace and Mary fell into piles onto the floor until the glass was bare. Cora thought about breaking it, but she paid for it herself. She blinked away the tears and looked at herself in the glass.

Whore! Slut! The terms glided around her mind like a kaleidoscope of butterflies; wings just as beautiful and sharp as the lamp shards on her floor. Cora was haunted by the woman she saw, staring back at her. The same dark hair and bright green eyes, albeit there were some differences. She was skinny with long thin legs, visibly taller than most of the girls her age. Ruby was shorter, but her eyes and flawless skin were much livelier, Cora recalled. Her mother seemed to wear a halo of light around her at all times, even on her darkest days. Cora was disgusted by how pure Ruby could look with such an ugly heart. She grabbed up a tube of raspberry lipstick and marked the even surface with those same hateful words. Whore! Slut! _This is what I am,_ she told herself, shouldering the burden. Her blood boiled, but her rage had gone away.   

Cora left the mess on the floor, too emotionally drained to clean it up, and collapsed onto her bed. She didn’t care that she smelled like the horse; she’d take a shower in the morning. To ease her mind, she took the Memu remote and turned on the television at the end of bed. She turned up the volume on the first channel she found and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep to the background noise. However, a familiar voice pulled her from the task.

Cora flicked her eyes open and looked through her bare toes at the person on the screen. The calm eyes of John Seed stared back at her as he spoke. She heard his voice; he preached about the power of yes. Cora and Grace often joked about him being a yes man. The word itself had some control over him, like he got off on hearing people say it. Cora could picture him jerking himself off as his flock chanted it. A laugh tore passed her lips, but she had to admit that picturing him in such a lewd way did something to her; it lit her senses on fire.

 _You can look but don’t touch._ Cora shut her eyes and listened to John’s voice as he preached. He was a talker, she assumed, prating on and on. Cora rubbed her thighs together and unbuttoned her studded plaid shirt. She shivered as her cold fingers trailed up her warm skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Slipping beneath her bra, Cora rubbed her right breast. The nipple was hard and sensitive as she pinched it between her thumb and index finger, moaning as electrical currents tore through her.

Letting her left hand continue the task, Cora slowly lowered her right hand towards her lap and slid it below her shorts and into her panties. She rubbed her clit up and down and sighed as waves of pleasure warmed her. Cora arched her knees and spread her legs further apart. Her eyes slid open, glued to the image of John on the screen.

“ – just say yes.” Cora bit her lip and moaned. She imagined him coming unhinged to her, chanting his favorite word like a spell. She’d keep him from getting his, building him up until he begged her; a strikethrough on a long list of names. “ – by saying yes, can you finally atone.”

Cora rubbed faster, nearing her climax. She recited the word over and over until she came hard. Her hips lifted off the mattress as she rode out her orgasm, blissed out from the intensity. Once she was done, exhaustion settled in. Cora flipped off the television, thanking John for her release, and shut her eyes. Sleep came too sudden; she didn’t even hear the pickup lug into the drive.

* * *

 

A horrifying squeal woke Cora from her sleep. Her eyes darted open in alarm, unsure that she heard anything at all. But, she did. Rembrandt was so loud; he was in trouble. Cora pulled herself from the mattress and looked out her bedroom window. It faced the barn and the horse track on the far side of the property. However, her eyes were glued in fear at the state of the barn. Fire licked at the wood, showering the night in hues of orange, yellow, and red.

Cora heard the whoosh of a device come to life as flames shot close to the house. A figure stepped out of the dark, holding what she assumed was a flamethrower. He once again split the sky with fire that lit up the night. The howling of men echoed along the field, and soon Cora could see them, driving up in pickups. Their lights flashed at the house, and Cora fled back so not to be seen. A sharp pain ran through the rough pad of her foot, causing her to cry out.

Cora limped over to her bed and crossed her leg over her thigh. A thick shard of rainbow colored glass was stuck in her heal. Bright red drops of blood oozed from the wound as she pulled it out and let it drop to the floor. She cursed at her lack of common sense and stood up. Her foot stung on the wooden floor, but her mind was set on enduring it. She moved slowly across the room and opened her bedroom door, peaking her head out. There was no one around and all the lights were off, so she slipped out into the hallway and limped towards the stairs.

Somewhere in the massive house was a shotgun. Cora’s grandpa kept it locked up, but she didn’t know where. She was a terrible shot; Roy was much better. He won 1st place in county last year with a rifle, shooting 10 targets in less than 30 seconds. The shotgun was meant for small and fast moving targets, but Cora doubted it would miss its mark. She needed to get the gun, then call Earl.

“Coralee,” the voice of grandma Annamae called to her.

Cora gasped in fear and turned to look at her. She was outside her bedroom door. “Grandma, there are people outside the house. They burned down the stables an –.”

“Hush now, child.” Annamae moved towards her and placed a hand against her cheek. Something warm and wet touched her skin as she rubbed her thumb across Cora’s face. “I have been looking for you all evening.” Her gentle eyes were calm and sincere. “You look scared.”

A bad feeling washed over Cora like a tidal wave. Something was off about her grandma; she was sturdy like an oak tree, but she couldn’t be blind to the happenings around her. Annamae knew something. “What’s going on here? Grandpa and Roy are not awake. Do they not hear that horrible screaming?”

Annamae hushed her again and gently smiled. “We need to leave the house. Pa and Roy are waiting for us.” She took Cora’s hand and led her gradually down the stairs. At the bottom, Annamae led her through the cozy open kitchen and to the back screen door. Cora stopped and pulled back her arm; her grandma stared at her in confusion. “Just this way, dear. Why are stopping?”

Cora glanced around the kitchen, hearing nothing but the faint tick of the wall clock. “Those people haven’t come into the house yet.” She felt a surge of hope curl up and fray inside her. “We can fortify the kitchen and find grandpa’s lock box. It should have the shotgun with it.”

Annamae snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “That ole prepper stash he talks about. Coralee, he just told you that to give you a peace of mind. He doesn’t really have one, and besides, if he did, it wouldn’t be in the house.” She made a valid point, but apart from that something was still off. Annamae grabbed her upper arm, firmer than before. “Come on girl, we don’t have much time.”

Cora bobbed her head and allowed her grandpa to pull her into the back yard. Tall pines were in the backdrop, bordering the house and barn. Cora assumed they’d make for the tree line, but within a few meters from the house, bright lights engulfed them.

“They found us,” Cora shrieked. Men with guns piled out of the pickup and moved towards them. Cora tried to pull Annamae back to the house, but she stood her ground. Her sharp nails tore into the delicate skin on Cora’s arm. “The hell are you doing? We have to run.” She attempted to pull away, but grandma had one hell of a grip.

“Everything is going to be okay, Cora.” Annamae patted her hand softly and smiled. “Our brothers and sisters have come for you. They know your pain and they want to release you from it.”

Cora widened her eyes and snorted at her. “You’re fucking insane.” She ripped her arm away from her, feeling her skin light on fire. However, someone seized her from behind and locked her arms. Cora looked over her shoulder and glared at them. The man with the red paint on his face just smiled and began pulling her away. Cora struggled against him, pushing her sore feet into the ground. Her scared eyes fell on her grandma’s quiet form and widened in fear.

Annamae wore her floral church dress with the wide ruffles; bright red stains wet the fabric. The blood spread like velvet gloves up her arms. _The same hands she touched me with,_ Cora thought in horror. Warm tears blurred her eyes.

“Don’t be scared, Cora. The Father is going to wash away your sins, like he did with mine. You will arise free and loved.” Annamae spread her arms like the wings of a bird and praised the Father. A chorus of voices followed after, including the man behind Cora. She could only think about the blood.

 _Who does it belong to? Who did she kill?_ Cora screamed in agony, scared she may already know. “Where is Roy? Is that his blood?”

Annamae placed a finger to her lips and hushed her. The lights from the pickup immersed her in a halo. She smiled with glee as Cora was drug away screaming and loaded into the back of a white van. It was her turn to be baptized in the river.                                                       


	2. The River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.

_Well, isn’t this nice? I’ve been dumped._ Cora tucked her head between her knees and took a deep, uneven breath. Her stomach was churning from anxiety as the van she had been put into juddered along an unmarked road in the sticks. The ride was intense. Cora had no way of knowing what lie in wait at her journey’s end, but she understood it may well be the wind up. The fear of waning, having never been happy made her neck hairs prickle. Each second in her mind brought her closer and closer to sheer madness. She was losing it; worry taking her one piece at a time.

Cora began to hum and tap her bare foot against the rubber flooring, coercing the skin around her cut to pulse. She tensed her jaw as mild pain gnawed at her, but the distraction it gave was worth the harm. She could tolerate the nausea a little more. _About time. Now sit up and focus._ Cora leaned back in her seat and took another deep breath. Her head spun with a sudden spell of dizziness and she felt like she might vomit, but she didn’t. A humorous smile split her face; she was told that she’d be saved. Instead, Cora found that she was a prisoner, locked in the back of a transport vehicle for convicts. Her situation was clearly ironic. She bounced her foot a little harder and her knee bumped against the joint of the person in front of her.

They groaned in annoyance and smacked at her. “Stop that, heathen. We’re all nervous and you’re not makin’ the situation any better with your tweaking out.” Charlotte Kirby twisted her round face into a grimace. Her chestnut colored hair was still pulled up with the thick, round steam rollers that she often wore to bed.

Cora gave her a dirty look as she calmed herself, leaning her head back against the van’s interior panel. The hefty woman seemed visibly pleased, but her lips were still pulled into a frown. Cora wasn’t concerned; Charlotte would pick a fight even if she was sitting quiet. The man across from her made eye contact and gently tapped his gun. He was warning them not to provoke him, Cora assumed. She considered it, wondering if he’d actually shoot them. Her attention remained on him long after his had gone. The most drawing connection she could note was his shirt. It wasn’t anything unique, the opposite actually; white linin with an eight pointed cross smeared in red. Cora hoped it was not blood and promptly remembered Annamae with her hands raised in a V, coated in black as the high beams from the truck burned her shadow into the exterior of the ranch house. She was so beautiful in that moment – it made Cora sick to her stomach.

“What does that mean?” Cora cleared her throat and tried to elaborate. Her fingers snapped as she grabbed his attention. “The cross you’re wearing. It a symbol for something?”

The man with the gun turned to her and raised a brow. He was caught off guard by her question, but found her curiosity to be uplifting. “It’s the symbol of our family. Each of my brothers and sisters wear it to show our faith in the Father and his vision for us.”

Cora felt a sudden coldness in her core. She wasn’t entirely troubled by his words, but rather annoyed that so many people actually respected Joseph Seed enough to kill for him. Cora found herself wondering about something and leaned forward in her seat. “What about the ones who don’t believe?” She was referring to her brother, but opted not to mention him. Her finger darted between herself and the others. “To the ones like us.”

“The Father is merciful, even to sinners like you. He and the heralds will guide you to redemption.” The man smiled and leaned forward. He reached out his hand and laid it on Cora’s leg. “But if you resist them, Eden’s Gate will stay forever closed to you.” His fingers tapped her knee as he pulled away. It left Cora wondering if he meant they’d be killed.

Charlotte came to the very same conclusion and gritted her teeth. “I’d advise you keep your mouth shut, girl. We all know the costs, but sometimes we don’t need to be reminded.”

Cora barked in laughter and shook her head. “Trust me, I get it. However, it doesn’t hurt to know what our chances are.” She ignored the anger stirring in her chest and switched gears. “I’m sorry about Mason. If it means anything, he was a good kid. The Seed family played him like a fiddle.”

“Don’t pretend like you know him.” Charlotte had tears in her eyes as she spoke. She leaned forward and pointed a thick finger at Cora. “You Hewett women think you can take whoever you want. Ruby took my William away from me, and you’re trying to take Mason away too. He’s all I got left. You don’t even care for him, so why bother.”

Cora dug her nails into the skin of her palms and shut her eyes. “We’re both in a tense situation and blame will be directed.” She opened them and shot the woman a dirty look. “But the next time you shove a finger in my face, I’ll break it off.”

Charlotte backed off; a flicker of annoyance surfaced in her tired eyes. Cora knew it was not the best idea to get on her level, but she was not in the mood for more ill will. The past should be left in the past, but Charlotte Kirby did leave her with something to think about. She played with the hearts of men just about as much as her mother did. Sooner or later her sins would return to tell on her, and she feared her days were numbered.

“There’s nothin’ to worry about.” The boy next to Charlotte spoke up. His voice was low, but he could be heard over the purr of the engine. Cora knew him from Fall’s End. He worked at the auto shop and on occasion, stopped by the bar to play the arcade machine. His name was Bo; it was inscribed on his uniform. “If we join without resistance, none of em’ will have a reason to kill us.”

“That’s up to the Baptist to decide,” the gunman corrected him. “Brother John was given the duty to look after the people of Holland Valley. He’s the only one, besides the Father who can determine your fate.” He stared off into the corner as if he was reminded of something, then smiled. “He believes that to atone a person must first be made to suffer. It’s truly beautiful the trial one must go through.”

Bo broke into a fit of tears, cradling his head between his arms. Cora gave him a look of pity, but her body was too dazed to move. She tried to imagine the horror, the agony of what John might do to her, but her mind drew a blank. Cora had never felt much pain before, besides the emotional type. A soothing warmth spread from her stomach to every inch of her weak stature, forcing her to scratch at her thighs. Her movements didn’t go unnoticed as she heard Charlotte huff an insult beneath her breath.

Cora ignored her and chewed at the skin on the inside of her cheek. “How does he expect us to atone through pain? Our suffering is what gave life to our sins.” She was speaking of herself, but she assumed the others had their own skeletons too.

The gunman lit up, smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve only heard rumors, but I was told the Herald will scribe into your flesh the name of each and every sin hidden inside. Once you confess, he will cut that piece from your body and stick it up as a reminder of your struggle.” He leaned forward and patted Cora’s knee again. “No worries, little one. It will hurt for only a minute, but you will be guaranteed a chance to enter Eden’s Gate as the Father intended.”

“That’s bullshit, man. He can’t expect us to believe that.” Bo spit as he shouted, glaring at the gunman. “There’s no truth to his lies. The world is cruel, but it’s not endin’.”

Cora raised a brow. She had never heard of Eden’s Gate before until now. “What’s Eden’s Gate?”

Bo gave her a look of surprise and laughed. “It’s what them Peggies are named from; Project at Eden’s Gate. It’s a rumor mostly, Jed comes in talkin’ bout it from time to time. Says that Joseph Seed believes the world is endin’ and he intends to save everyone in Hope County.”

_Like a doomsday cult,_ Cora assumed. _That explains the reason for the lack of people at church. They believe that some false prophet can offer protection from death._ She understood the motive, but the method still confused her.

Charlotte snorted and crossed her leg over the other, knocking her foot into Cora’s knee in the process. “Mason often talks about that mess, but I don’t believe in it. Not sure why I’m involved, other than being a sinner, I guess.”

Cora laughed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s exactly the reason; we’re sinners and we don’t believe. We’d never agree to join, so we were chosen. Annamae chose me, and Mason chose you. Each of them have connections to the Peggies.”

“Oh god! Jorie is the reason I’m here.” Bo barked a laugh. “She was a real cute girl. We dated for a while, but she wouldn’t stop this Joseph Seed bullshit. She met him through John, I recon. We split up months ago. Guess she still cares about me.” He began to cry, shoving his head into his arms. For once, Charlotte was quiet. She rubbed his back as he cried out his frustration.

Cora sat back in her seat and bounced her knee again. “Has anyone ever said no to John Seed before?” His sermon came to mind. She assumed their atonement would begin once they agreed to confess. All the red flags were there, but no one chose to listen. John was the face of the cult; amiable and a natural born speaker. He’d have Cora eating the lies from the palm of his hand.

“No one has ever tried, and I’d advise the three of you not to entice him. His motives have no bounds.” The gunman narrowed his eyes as if to state he was done with questions.

Cora rested her eyes and tried to find comfort in the remainder of the journey – wherever they were taking them. She liked the silence, but her mind wouldn’t allow her to rest. Her party would come face to face with the Baptist at some point in the night. They’d be given the option; say yes. Cora didn’t want to, but she wondered if Roy had. He may still be alive and she wanted to find him.

_Yes or no_? Her life was quickly ticking down like clockwork; a fate that would be left up to John to decide if she chose to retaliate. Cora honestly didn’t know what to do. She wanted to live, but not at the price of being a slave. The drive was indeed tense, because at any moment Cora would be forced to choose a path; obedience or death. Her fork in the road came sooner than she would have liked.

The van slowed to a stop and the engine soon died. Cora opened her eyes and sat up erect in her seat. Charlotte sent her an anxious glance, but her face was soon washed over in white as the doors opened up to a bright light. Two Peggies stood on the other side; one with a large gun and the other with a torch. They gave no chances to escape, ushering each of them from the van one at a time.

Cora was the first out. As she was being dragged around the vehicle she tried to identify her location. Large yellow pines swept the expanse, towering over her like a giant. She could faintly smell a fishy odor nearby, and other than a small cottage styled home to her left, she had no idea where she was. The Peggie leading her brought her to the front of the van and Cora promptly slammed her heels into the soft dirt, forcing the Peggie to come to a standstill. Her eyes widened as all eyes landed on her. There were around 15 to 20 people standing in front of a lake; it’s water an dark blue depth that threatened to swallow them whole.

They began to applaud and whoop once they saw her, like she was the guest of honor at a very special party. The Peggie steering her continued to move, cursing her for making him pull her along. Cora assumed the others were behind her, because she heard Charlotte gasp close to her ear. Once they were close, the loud sound of cheering fell silent. Cora wasn’t sure what to do beyond this point; everyone was staring at her, like hungry wolves ready to attack collectively.

“Move aside, my brothers and sisters. Allow the sinners to join us, so they may be cleansed.” The hair on Cora’s neck prickled once she recognized John’s calming voice somewhere in the mass of Peggies. They quickly parted, offering her and the others a path to the river. John was waist deep in the black water; a white book curled under his arm. He leered at Cora as she came into view and extended his hand to her. “Bring them here.”

Cora was pulled into the lake and let out a gasp of shock. The cold water seeped into her clothing, stealing the heat from her body as she was ushered past the point of no return. John stood at least 3 inches taller than her, so by the time she was positioned near him, the water nearly reached the base of her breasts. Cora was lined up in front with Bo on her right and Charlotte on her left; each of them had a Peggie stationed at their backs.

John watched them like a hawk, leering at each of them. His large hands opened the book Joseph had him mass produce and found his previous side marker. He knew it by heart, but found comfort in knowing he was prepared. His eyes softened as he faced the flock. “Welcome. The Father recognizes all in attendance for all you’ve done and all you’ve built leading to this moment. The collapse is upon us, but the Father has promised to keep you safe, in return for your faith.” He turned to his side and extended a hand to Cora and the others. “He also understands that there are those; sinners who do not believe in what he has tried so hard to build for us. He has granted me the honor of offering them atonement.”

The mass of cultists cheered for him, hooting so loud the forest resonated with their devotion. John smiled and basked in their gratitude. Once he raised his tattooed arm they became quiet again. “Draw closer brothers and sisters. Behold the Father’s amnesty to even those who refuse to say yes to us.” His voice raised in volume, roaring like a lion into the night. Cora shivered in terror and rubbed her chilled arms. She couldn’t see before just how much John impacted the others. If he had power of suggestion, she wondered to what measure he’d go to keep it.

John moved through the dark water like a shark and advanced on Bo. The scared young man tried to back up, but the Peggie at his rear clung to him. Bo whimpered as John seized his arm and tugged him forward; his book was handed off to the cultist. A spark of impatience could be spotted in the bright eyes of the Baptist as he offered Bo to the flock. “State your name, sinner. Do it loud enough for all to hear.”

Bo came to be unhinged, weeping nonstop. “Please… please don’t do this. I’ll confess; I’ll do anything.” A fat glob of mucus poured from his right nostril as he began to heave. Yet, his plea meant little to nothing to the Seed’s youngest.

John laughed and tightened his fingers around Bo’s arm; it was intended to be a threat. “There’s a time for confessions, but it’s neither here or now.” He jerked Bo forward, splashing water onto Cora’s face. “I won’t ask again. State your name.”

“Robinson… Bo Robinson.” His voice was broken, but it could be heard amongst the others. Bo sniffed and stared down at the water.

John leered at him, dousing his fingers in the river water. He drew a cross on Bo’s forehead and laid his hand flat across the boy’s chest. “Blessed be the Father who has offered you atonement. When you emerge from these waters, you will be cleansed.” Bo resisted him, but John simply smiled. “Don’t struggle. I’d hate to drown you.” He and the Peggie shoved Bo into the depth of the river. When he emerged again, desperate for air, a choir of voices filled the night. John presented him to them and smiled. His bright eyes rested on Cora, eyeing her like a piece of meat.

The Baptist came to her and lifted her head to meet his stare. “Give me your name.” His thumb rubbed at her cheek as he waited.

Cora sighed at his warm touch and leaned into it. Her entire body was stiff from the cold. “I’m Coralee Hewett.” She squeezed her arms around herself, almost worried that John would notice her nipples erect through her button up.

John followed the same process for her and slid her into the water’s depth. As he pulled her up, Cora seized his wrist. Her fingers were like ice. John grabbed her hands and trapped them between his own, rubbing them forcefully. “Welcome to Eden’s Gate.” He gave her a smile and released her, moving on to the last of them.

Cora was in utter shock; her skin was on fire. She had been warned not to touch him, but she couldn’t avoid it. His casual blue eyes had ensnared her, made her want to come clean. _Yes. Oh god! Yes._ Incredible as it felt, she knew something was not right. John looked at her, not as a member of the Project, but as an object to amuse himself with. She could see the irony of it; her sins would lead her to the flames. Could she really be set free? _No, I think not._

The bitter nip of the river brought Cora back to awareness as it stung at her arms and face. Charlotte sputtered for air as John lifted her from the water; her blessing only taking minutes measured up to the eternity it would offer. The Peggies again cheered for them, some coming into the river to greet them as the Baptist offered them up.

Cora was rudely pushed next to the gunman who held her and lead into the belly of the beast. She kept her head down and eyes straight as she moved through them, hoping to avoid the Baptist at all costs. Yet, fate was cruel to sinners like her. A warm hand slid across her cheek and lifted her face. Even though she assumed them to belong to the man in question, they didn’t.

Annamae Hewett smiled at her and rubbed her chilled skin. Her bright eyes wavered as she saw Cora’s tense expression. “This is no good. The baptism was meant to put to rest all those nasty sins you’ve been hiding.” She splashed Cora in the face and laughed. Her nimble fingers scrubbed at her skin like she was trying to wipe away filth.

Cora swatted her arm away and glared at the woman. She couldn’t help herself; she extended her hand and slapped her across the face. “You fucking bitch. Don’t play games with me, not after what you’ve done.” _Not after killing grandpa and Roy._ She swore the whole county heard her screams. The man holding her had yanked her away from Annamae, but Cora struggled against him. She wasn’t done with her yet.

Annamae began to tear up, but Cora didn’t care. She had killed the only person Cora cared about, and to rub salt in the wound, the woman was still wearing the damned dress she killed him in.

“Oh dear! Brother John should see this.” Annamae leaned forward and patted her cheek. “He’s going to have his hands full with you; so bursting with hate. Let’s tell him.”

_She wouldn’t._ She did; hollering out his name. Her arms lifted and waved like a flag through the air. “This one is unclean. Brother John, come sanctify her.” Annamae pointed and hopped up and down in the water.

Cora shook in anger; she was terrified. She let out a loud scream and struck the woman. Over and Over, Cora punched at her, swearing with every swing. It took 2 Peggies to pull Cora off, but even then she thrashed and kicked like a maniac. She even bit at the arm near her throat, sinking her teeth into inked flesh. As soon as she did though, her head was yanked back by the hair, forcing her to open her mouth in order to release a cry of pain. A hand clamped around her mouth and shut out her voice.

“Now… be still.” John’s voice was calm, but also low in annoyance. His warm breath was on her ear as he spoke. “That was a mistake. One you are going to pay dearly for.” His erection thrust against her bottom.

Cora wasn’t sure if he was referring to the act of violence on himself or her grandma. Still, she was far too scared to move. Even when John removed his hand from her mouth, she did not attempt to make a sound. She was confused by what she felt, but it wasn’t until Annamae spoke up, did Cora remember why she was mad in the first place.

The woman dropped to her knees, water up to her chest, and locked her fingers together in front of her. “Have mercy, brother. My granddaughter is full of hate, but she can be saved. Please, I beg of you, save her before the Father closes Eden’s Gate to her.”

Irritation burned inside her; Cora kicked at the woman, but an intense pain stabbed her neck and she was thrown into the water. She tried to emerge, flailing her arms and legs, but a hand kept her beneath the surface. Cora struggled to move and grabbed at the hand in her hair, but to no success, she began to run out of breath. Dark spots flickered across her eyes; she was going to drown. But, before she did, her body was pulled from the water. She sputtered and coughed, trying to regain her breath. Her eyesight was blurred, but she could hear Annamae’s voice, praising John for his mercy on her.

_Should’ve let me die._ Cora tossed her head back and laughed. She was delusional; drugged maybe. The night sky twinkled like diamonds, and before it all went dark, Cora heard a voice; giggling, welcoming her into the bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a fan of the ending, but much love to those who liked it. The chapters may not be as long as the first.


	3. Play Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary was right about him; John damn well got what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support. To all the ones who left Kudos or bookmarked the story, I am very happy that you've chosen to stick around. I especially want to thank Vick_Queen, FanniOwO, and my lovely guests for the very nice comments they left me.

The room Cora woke in was unfamiliar to her. It was welcoming, unlike the icy waters she had been made to tread amidst. A soft throw blanket covered her sore body and for a moment, Cora pondered on going back to sleep. Yet, a dull pain in her head – reaching from the temples to the back of her neck – kept her very much awake and very confused about her current state.

Staring at the bunk above her, Cora yawned and leaned up onto her elbows. The blanket slid down her shoulders and exposed her bare chest; she was naked beneath it. Fear crippled her. She couldn’t remember anything after John pulled her from the river, besides the voice of that woman. The drugs – or lack of oxygen – must of caused her brain to hear things she couldn’t possibly understand. That would explain the eerie whispers in her ear, but dazed or not, Cora could not remember becoming naked.

The usually calm and logical woman began to panic, searching the small room for her clothes. She found them spread across a writing desk in the far corner of her chamber and made a move to retrieve them. Her skin pebbled as the bed above her suddenly lurched. Cora sank back into the mattress in fear; someone was up there. A second passed – almost like an eternity – before a head of frizzy brown hair tipped over the edge of the upper bunk. A pair of hazel green eyes brightened as a smile pulled at their lips.

“Morning; or at least it seems to be. I can’t really tell.” She stared at Cora for a second longer before shock wavered across her face. “I’m the one who took your clothes off. Sorry I didn’t ask you first, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

The woman pulled her head out of view and the bed began to lurch again. She moved down the latter at the far end of her bunk and dropped to the floor with a thump. Cora noticed that she was short, much younger than herself and wore a gentle smile regardless of the awkward situation. She seemed to read the non-verbal cues between them and tossed up her hands in defense. “Don’t freak out on me, please. Allow me a second to explain.”

Cora bobbed her head and pulled the blanket over her chest. “I’m all ears, sweetheart.” She motioned for her to continue, very interested in what she had to say.

“Okay… so you were out cold when those guys with the crosses who kidnapped me brought you in.” She paced the length of the bed as she continued. “They tossed you on the mattress, but your clothes were soaked; the baptism I assumed.”

The fleeting memory of being nearly drowned made Cora grunt and scrunch her nose into a scowl. John tried to kill her and almost succeeded in doing so. But what reason did he keep her alive? She drummed her fingers against her head, reminding herself of Winnie the Pooh. _Think._ However, she could not.

The dark haired woman, finding Cora’s reaction to be amusing, laughed and pointed a slender finger to her chest. “Been there, done that. But I walked away conscious. The charming one in the button down was relatively gentle with my group.”

Cora huffed a laugh. John Seed; gentle. _I think not._ She lifted her hand, rolling it. “And about my clothes?” _We’re getting way off topic._

“Oh! Right… as I was saying. Your lips were literally blue and I was afraid hypothermia might set in, so I stripped you down.” She sat on the edge of the bed and locked her legs at the ankle. “Not to pry, but what did you do to make them so mad? Those dropouts didn’t even care to give you a fresh pair of clothing.”

“We call them Peggies around here,” Cora corrected her. She wondered if the woman was from Hope; she had never seen her around before. “To answer your question, I’m not entirely sure. I hit one of them – the bitch had it comin’ – and I’m pretty sure I bit Mr. Charming.” Cora smiled as the woman began to laugh. “My turn to pry. You from around these parts?”

“I’m from Southwest Montana, actually. I came to Hope County to check up on my sister, who lives in the mountains.” _The Whitetail region._ Cora had never been further than Rae-Rae’s Pumpkin Farm. “She and I are close. We’d talk about me coming to visit, but work always kept me busy. Last week she stopped answering my calls; that’s unusual for her. I got worried and drove 3 hours into the night to get here, but as soon as I crossed into Holland Valley I was stopped at a block. Those men – Peggies or whatever – grabbed me and brought me here.” The woman leaned forward and took Cora’s hand. She was trembling in fear. “Who are these people? You are the only person I’ve talked to in days. What is going on out there?”

Cora shrugged and gave her a gentle smile. She wasn’t sure how to comfort her, not with things being as bad as they were. “Other than rumors, no one in Hope had any idea this would happen. I was just a small town waitress until they took me. Sorry, but I’m in the same boat as you.”

The woman squeezed Cora’s hand. She was upset, but she still wore a smile on her face. Her shoulders sagged as she went silent, tapping her thump on Cora’s wrist. “I guess we’re roommates for now. No use in thinking I’m in this on my own anymore.” She balled up her fist and lifted it out to be bumped. “My name is Melanie.”

“I’m Cora. Thanks for helping me out.” She huffed a laugh and connected her fist. _No harm in making new friends._ Melanie seemed nice; a little eccentric. Yet, Cora liked her.

Melanie let her smile fade, seriousness taking over. “Everything you know, I want to hear. Please tell me about the people who took us. I just want some closure, is all.”

“It’s not much, but I’ve heard a few rumors.” Cora didn’t blame her for wanting to know. She wanted to do more, shine some light on the situation, but there were things even Cora was left in the dark about. So she told Melanie all she knew.

* * *

 

In a few days’ time – which felt longer – Cora grew to trust Melanie. She knew more about the local than most were privy to, but Cora didn’t mind. She told Melanie about her attraction to John and in return, Melanie told Cora all about her boring job as an LPN; how the Charge Nurse who she reported to was a cunt – _a pretty cunt,_ she recalled her saying. The hours they talked seemed to pass the time; it kept Cora’s mind from thinking about the outside world. Yet, every once in a while she’d hear talk about a resistance building in the mountains. Her hopes for being recued would soar, but another day would pass and no one would come. Melanie would tell her jokes, trying to get her to laugh. It was exhausting work, pretending to be strong. She felt like her time was running out.

Today, she was in a rut. Cora swung her legs behind her, flipping to the next page of a Teen & Up magazine Melanie found wedged between the wall and the writing desk. “Next question: I have fantasized about masturbating my partner.” She held in a laugh and waiting for a response. Lewd talk about sex was the only thing keeping her sane.

 “Maybe… not entirely sure he deserves it. I mean, he’s pretty selfish for a booty call.” Melanie stopped as Cora burst into a fit of laughter. “I deserve a little attention too.”

Cora flipped onto her back and leaned into the pillow. She was wearing her denim shorts and button down shirt which still smelled like lake water. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was the best she had. “I agree but come on, he’s a booty call. He’s only thinking about himself. He’ll say sweet words and maybe go down on you to sweeten the deal, but once he’s done he’ll be out of there and you’ll be left to clean up the mess.”

Melanie groaned and kicked her feet. The bed lurched beneath her. “To hell with him then. No, absolutely not.” She pushed her arm through the opening in the bed and tapped her fingers against the wall. “Pass it up. It’s my turn.”

Somewhere along the way, they stopped taking the quizzes. Both of them knew the answers; Cora had abnormal fantasies and Melanie was in between. They began to just think of scenarios and answer the questions based off that. Cora snorted and passed along the magazine. She hoped that Melanie would think of something better than the last one.

“I’ve got one for ya.” Melanie chuckled as she found the page they were on. “So, Mr. Charming walks in. He’s wearing that sexy button down with the sleeves rolled up – you know the one – and he wants to fuck. You say yes, and then he invites his brother to join. Do you decline or do you have sex with the both of them?”

Cora clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shut her eyes. “Depends on which brother; he’s got two of em’.” _Joseph or Jacob?_ She considered Jacob first. He was the eldest, but Cora also knew the smallest amount about him. She saw him only once on the television, standing behind Joseph with his siblings. He was an enigma to her; fierce and lonely. The veterans referred to him as someone who was brutalized by his experiences in the war. Cora couldn’t agree more. She rubbed her knees together and chewed at the inside of her cheek. Jacob, she could see herself beneath – or between, if he didn’t mind sharing. Joseph, on the other hand, Cora could not see herself with. He was the Father; proclaimer of the will of God. She was a sinner and loved sex too much to give it up. Her mind was made up. “Can’t say I would, to answer your question. Jacob is a close yes, but something about John keeps me from agreeing.”

“Someone is being selfish.” Melanie laughed, folding the magazine over her chest. She became silent and stared at the ceiling of their quarters. It felt more like a cell to her every day.

“Don’t do it, Mel. We agreed, didn’t we?” Cora curled into herself and buried her face into the pillow. _How can I say that when I too have done it?_ She was referring to the silence, bringing up the promise Melanie and she made to keep speaking no matter the issue. “I’m listening, so don’t stop talking.”

Melanie rubbed tears from her eyes and smiled. “I know, but don’t you think it’s time we confessed? I don’t understand why he’s keeping us here, but maybe it’s because we have to agree to see him. I don’t know what I’ll say, but at this point I’d tell him anything just to be set free.”

Cora snorted and rolled her eyes. _Bullshit,_ she claimed. “He isn’t going to just let you walk away from this. John is trying to force us into the Project through fear and through pain. I don’t know what he’ll do once we have atoned, but I promise you, it’s not freedom waiting for us on the surface.” She doesn’t admit that she had thought about confessing to him. That in general scared her. “Do me a solid and promise me that once he tries to get you to confess you won’t. There’s more to him than being a good lawyer; he makes people want to trust him. But, he’s nothing more than a snake in the grass.”

The bed creaked as Melanie peaked over the edge of her bunk. Her red and puffy eyes were full of tears but her lips were pulled up into a playful grin. “When can I expect the wedding?”

Cora gasped in shock and swatted at Melanie with her foot. The young woman laughed and tossed the magazine at her, striking her in the chest. Cora went to throw it back, but the lock to their chamber door began to rattle boisterously. She hid the magazine beneath her pillow just as the door opened.

It wasn’t time for lunch; Cora knew when to expect the guard. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door, curious as to who was visiting. As John sauntered in – a Peggie with a gun following close behind him – Cora felt heat rush to her cheeks. _Speak of the devil and he shall come._ She pushed herself further back and stared at him from the wide gap in her bunk.

John glanced up at Melanie, then down at Cora. He was looking at them like cuts of steak, tapping a finger on his upper arm as he studied their appearances. His finger waved at Cora; smile on his otherwise calm face. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Cora nearly laughed. No way in hell was she going to do that. With no idea what he was planning, she decided on remaining idle. It was her only plan, but one she felt wouldn’t matter in the end. Cora narrowed her eyes and stared at the floor. In doing so, she failed to notice the irritated glare the Baptist was giving her.

John glanced at the guard and nodded sharply towards her. The man bobbed his head and moved to the side of the bunk, grabbing Cora by the arm. He pulled her from the bed without much difficulty and dragged her over to John. The Baptist immediately seized her, burying his tattooed fingers into the soft cheeks of her face. His wrist rolled and forced her head to the side; Cora growled at him.

“She’s the one,” he said with a sigh. John wrenched her face into view and smiled as the woman shuddered in pain. He laughed and tightened his fingers around her jaw. Cora smelled fowl to him, but her expressions were humorous. John could hardly contain his happiness. He patted her cheek and glanced again at the guard.

The man grabbed Cora’s shoulders and pulled her from John’s grip; short nails biting into her sensitive skin as he guided her back. Cora was able to steal a glance at Melanie before she was lead out of the room – her roommate was in tears. From her cell, Cora was escorted down the corridor. She was trapped between John and the Peggie with no way to break out. Her fearful eyes searched the route, but the furthest John lead her into the bunker was up a set of stairs.  

 _We love you. We will take you._ Cora shuddered as she read the words painted on the wall. Her skin rose with goosebumps and her heart pounded against her chest. She was terrified of the unknown; of what John might do to her once he had her alone.

The man in question whistled as he ambled merrily into the upstairs workshop. He flipped the switch, showering the room in dim red light; the antlers clustered below the socket projected eerie shadows onto the floor. John took a deep breath and sighed in relief. His workbench was in the middle of the room, covered in patches of skin; warm and inked with terms of debauchery. He stepped to the side and motioned for Cora to be escorted in.

“Put her in the chair and make sure to lock her down.” John set his hands on his hips and watched as his guard set Cora in an office chair, binding her wrists together around the spine.

Cora hissed in pain and tested her restraints; the zip ties were fairly tight. She roared in annoyance and kicked her feet into the floor, pushing the chair a few inches back. “Let me go, prick. You have no right to keep me here.”

John laughed and wagged his finger. “You … I was told to watch out for you. Such a way of thinking you have, like the world owes you something.” He stepped at a snail's pace across the room and slid a stool in front of her. Sitting down, he tapped his finger against the tip of her nose. “But it doesn’t and I am going to be the one to remove that nonsensical ideology from you; body and soul. Don’t get too comfortable; this won’t take long.”

Cora leaned forward and spat in his face. “Fuck you.” _Nonsensical ideology, my ass._ She felt like John was the only one spouting bullshit. “Do you hear yourself? You’re not Superman and you can’t do this to people.”

John wiped the spit from his cheek and clenched his jaw. “That was unpleasant.” Despite the frustration in his eyes, he smiled and stood up, moving over to the workbench. He began to whistle, searching in the tool box on the top – locking pliers and a utility knife were 2 of the tools he took out and flaunted to Cora. “Do you have a preference?” He laughed as her eyes grew in fear. “No? I thought you liked it nasty.” She pushed her feet against the floor, propelling the swivel chair back as he sauntered towards her. But John caught her before she ran into the guard at her rear, digging the tools into her naked thighs as he yanked her forward. He settled himself between her knees and nodded for his guy to keep her from turning away from him.

Cora kicked and screamed, arching her chest up as her head was forced back. Tears pooled and sank from the corner of her eyes; she was indeed terrified. However John was not concerned; he smiled and lifted the blade up to her face. The edge met her skin, but it did not slide any further.

“Let’s make this easy; I am going to cut you, but it doesn’t have to be excruciating.” John trailed the blade down Cora’s cheek to the base of her neck. “All you have to do is confess. Say yes … John I want you to help me. Set me free.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Cora couldn’t help herself; she laughed. Her mind was so clouded by fear, she couldn’t think straight. “You’re insane; you’re whole fuckin’ family is.” She felt his jeans burn her thighs as she tried to squeeze her legs together and recalled their scuffle in the lake – he was depraved. Cora smiled and bent her knee, circling her leg around his waist. “Is this all it takes for you to get it up? Want me to make you feel special? Let you hit me a little; stoke your ego.” She lifted her waist and grinded herself along the front of his jeans.

John grabbed her thighs and pushed himself against her. The woman sighed in relief. “Have it your way. But remember, I gave you a choice.” He dug the knife into her skin, below the lining of her shorts. She screamed in pain; each long stroke tore her skin to pieces. “This could have been easy. You people don’t appreciate the effort I’m going through just to help you. Ungrateful … malevolent …” His voice rose with every cut until the word _yes_ was etched into her skin 3 times – one on top of the other. Cora’s leg was a mess of cut up meat and blood. John leaned forward and grabbed her face, burying his fingers into her wet cheeks. “Was it good for you?”

Cora felt sick; her entire body was shaking. She thought she may just pass out, but the sharp burn in her leg kept her awake and alert. Her skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat, but her blood was on fire. She bit her tongue to stop the assault of words she wanted to call him. A fit of loud sobs poured from Cora’s mouth instead. She was in pain and her calm demeanor was slipping.

“Why the tears? I warned you that it would hurt.” John slid Cora’s messy hair behind her ears and rubbed the pad of his finger along her jaw bone. “There’s always a better solution. Take your stubbornness for instance. If you refuse me, I will find a way to get you to say yes. However, if you accept me, we can work together and tear out each and every sin before they consume you. I’d choose the better option, trust me. You don’t want to be like the unnamed pharaoh during the period of the Exodus. What’s it going to be, Coralee?”

“Don’t do this. Please, don’t make me choose.” Cora shook her head, shutting her terrified eyes. She didn’t want to be a member of the Project. Her dream was to leave Hope County, not be shackled to it. “No. I won’t be forced to stay here in this hell.” She heard John sigh deeply, then suddenly his hands were around her neck. Her eyes opened wide as she gasped for air; he was choking her. His face was twisted into a heated glare as he leaned into Cora, pressing their bodies closer. Cora’s legs locked at the ankle around John’s back. Her eyes became clouded with tears; the pressure in her head felt like it might explode.

Cora heard a loud static like noise – she thought it was her ears – then a voice spoke. They called to John. She realized it was a radio. Suddenly, the pressure around her neck was gone. Cora gasped for air, blinking her eyes to clear them of tears. She saw John pull a radio from his belt and lift it to his mouth.

“I’m busy. What do you want?” He was irritated. His hair was loose from it’s slicked back style and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. The voice on the other end replied back quickly, but their tone was jumpy. They mentioned that John had a sermon to attend; Cora never felt so lucky. John glanced down at her and narrowed his eyes. “I’m on my way.” He shoved the radio back onto his belt and combed his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“Look at the time.” John glanced at the watch on his wrist and kissed her head. “Another day, maybe. I look forward to our next play date.” He motioned for the guard to release her and pulled himself from Cora’s slender limbs – his jeans were stained with blood and several wet blots of her arousal.  

Cora’s hands were freed from the zip ties, but she made no attempt to attack John. Her sex was humming and she swore her panties were wet. _No fucking way._ She couldn’t believe what she was feeling.

The guard pulled her up from the chair and lifted her over his shoulder. Cora’s head was buzzing and she was thankful that he didn’t force her to stand on her own. On John’s order, he took Cora back to her cell and dumped her onto the bed – a med kit was left on the table for her leg.

Melanie was at her side the second he was gone, but Cora was off the bed and over the toilet, gaging on her own vomit before the woman could ask her what had happened. She stood behind her and rubbed her back, concerned when she heard her roommate begin to sob.

“I’m dirt … so disgusting.” Cora wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and sat down on her legs. She felt like a paradox, taking pleasure in the contact John and she shared. He carved her up and nearly killed her – _probably will the next time,_ she thought – but still she was turned on by him. “What did he do to me?”

Melanie had no idea what she was talking about, but she took Cora in her arms and allowed her to lean against her frail body. Warm tears poured down her face. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me be the one who holds us together. Please, Cora; please snap out of it.”

They cried together; loud sobs that echoed off the walls. Cora held Melanie, wanting someone to cling to, hoping it was not her last day alive. She felt like it might be. John was a monster; he controlled her body – if he knew, Cora feared the things he’d do. All that was left for him to own was her mind and her heart. Mary was right about him; John damn well got what he wanted.


End file.
